


A Christmas Miracle

by potterhead25



Series: Romances of the Wizarding World [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Boys Kissing, Christmas, Christmas Smut, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Draco has a great ass, Drarry, Fucking, Gay, Gay Sex, Kind of a plot, Kissing, Love, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, NSFW, Oral Sex, Patronus, Penetration, Porn With Plot, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Rough Sex, Sectumsempra Scars, Sex, Slash, Smut, Top Harry, Top Harry Potter, You Have Been Warned, a christmASSy plot, be like harry, draco casts his first patronus, harry likes eating draco's ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-19 19:04:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13130082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potterhead25/pseuds/potterhead25
Summary: Former rivals Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are currently employed as professors at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When Draco asks Harry to teach him a particularly difficult charm, Harry obliges. Neither man expected to find acceptance with one another.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MikaDurarara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaDurarara/gifts).



> This is for @MikaDurarara. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! xo  
> Thanks @UpTheHill for being such a brilliant and inspiring person.
> 
> If you like this story, please leave a comment and a kudo!  
> Find me on [tumblr](stainednotebook.tumblr.com)

“Again!”

“I fucking can’t!”

“You’re not trying hard enough! You can do this!”

“I CAN’T!”

Malfoy sank to the floor, his legs stretched out before him. His wand slipped out of his hand and he heard it roll away from him. He heard footsteps, a slight shuffle and a sigh. He saw the other man out of the corner of his eye. He knelt, Malfoy saw, felt a hand lock on his and slide the wand back into his hand. He saw another wand slide down to his chin and push his face up. He could almost see pity in Potter’s eyes.

Malfoy frowned in return, yet he knew all his arrogance had faded to something close to resignation. Couldn’t Potter tell how difficult this was for him? Mighty Potter mastering everything before the rest of the world. Old memories kept washing over him every time he tried, and it hurt. The fear, the sinking feeling… no power. Nothing.

“One more time,” Potter said.

Malfoy clenched his jaw. He raised his head, closed his eyes and opened them again.

“I have nothing.”

Potter took a deep breath. He looked straight into Malfoy’s eyes, neither breaking the contact. Potter raised his wand, pointed it straight at Malfoy and whispered, _“Expecto Patronum!”_

The stag burst out of the tip of his wand and shot upward. Malfoy’s head snapped in its direction and followed the spectre as it galloped across the room with a trail of white light. It galloped around the room once and stopped near the two, dipping its massive head just a bit before dissolving into a shimmer and vanishing entirely.

“It doesn’t need to be something happy. Just something that makes you stronger. Something that gives you hope. Concentrate!”

“There’s too many things—

“Let go of them! Just think about that one thing and hold on to it. Make it bigger, let it fill you up. Then let it out. Face your ghosts.”

Malfoy clenched his jaw again. Potter stood up and took a few steps back. For a moment Malfoy wanted to curse him. He got to his feet, closed his eyes and hung his head with his wand held loosely at his side. Minutes passed by, but Potter remained patient.

_We’ve all been through so much._

He opened his eyes. “I’m ready.” Potter nodded and stepped aside. Part of him felt that this was it – he would finally see the reward for the patience he’d maintained. At least Potter would.

He looked straight ahead at a portrait of Dumbledore. He knew Potter had it put up in his office the year before last. Rumour had it he’d been quite lonely since the Weasley girl died. Even now, anything related to Potter made the front page.

Potter’s voice said, “Focus, Malfoy. Channel the memory through. Let it come out of you.”

“You’ve said that the last four times now.”

“And I’ll say it again! Now –

 _“Expecto Patronum!”_ Malfoy hadn’t meant to shout. He didn’t expect anything to happen either when he said the spell, just like the last twenty something times. When a burst of white light shot out of the tip of his wand he thought he’d done something wrong, yet a wonderful sensation of what could only be described as pure happiness filled him. Every inch of his skin was on fire and the feeling wouldn’t stop, not even after the light faded away and he saw Potter grinning his toothy smile at him. He tried to speak. “That was…”

“That was brilliant! I knew you could do it!” And then Potter did something Malfoy never expected. _Potter patted my back. Not once, but three times!_

Both men smiled, Malfoy mostly at the floor. He’d done it, finally, after years of wondering and frustration and failed attempts. He’d given up until he’d seen Potter teach his students how to perform the charm. His mind went back to that Quidditch game in their third year. Some of the memories that came back to him every now and then from their schooldays made him cringe. He’d done some very questionable things. He remembered how they’d all crashed when Potter had produced his Patronus in their face.

“Come on, let’s go out for a drink.”

Malfoy’s head snapped up. “What?”

“A drink… You know, alcohol? Doesn’t have to be alcohol, we can just go get some coffee.”

“You want to have a drink with me?”

“Yeah.”

Both men stood staring at each other, waiting for the other to make some condescending remark, followed by an awkward retort and Malfoy leaving with some muttered thanks. Instead, they both chuckled and headed out of the office.

*

The castle was decorated in the usual fashion for its Christmas proceedings with all sorts of ornaments, trinkets, baubles and knick-knacks. The Great Hall looked as spectacular as ever with wreaths and swathes of holly and mistletoe and the traditional twelve trees. Thousands of candles floated around the ceiling and arches all over the castle were covered with icicles. As the two men passed through the Entrance Hall, they both felt the weight of their dinner. It had been a spectacular feast with the house-elves outdoing themselves once more what with the giant roast turkeys, black-eyed peas, fried chicken, boats filled to the brim with thick gravies and sauces, platters of carrots and turnip and parsnips and dishes of mashed and roast potatoes. Harry remembered Neville’s incredulous grin as he’d asked the Herbology professor to pass him his fifth helping of treacle tart.

Harry remembered his first Christmas at Hogwarts. He remembered receiving actual presents for the first time, Mrs. Weasley’s handknit jumper and home-made fudge, Hermione’s box of Chocolate Frogs and of course his father’s invisibility cloak. He remembered his night-time excursion, finding the Mirror and seeing his parents in it.

Harry snapped out of his memories when a gust of cold wind hit his face. Malfoy, Harry realised was at the steps behind him, tucking a scarf around his neck. Harry waited as Malfoy walked up to him. As the blond stepped out into the open, a gust of wind blew his perfectly combed hair into a tangled mess. By the time he joined Harry, Malfoy’s head was ready to be a nesting ground.

Neither man spoke during their walk through the grounds. Occasionally, a gust of wind blew their way, or a branch gave away to the snow piled atop it. Harry began thinking about his previous Christmases at Hogwarts. He remembered their second year when Malfoy had stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays and Harry and Ron had used Polyjuice Potion to turn into Crabbe and Goyle to interrogate Malfoy. He remembered Hermione’s partial transformation into Millicent Bulstrode and how she’d been made to stay in the hospital wing—

“I want to try it again,” Malfoy said.

Harry looked at him and grinned. “Go ahead.”

They were almost at the gates. Harry could just make out the shape of the winged boars which flanked the gate, covered in snow. Malfoy moved a few paces toward the gate and faced Harry. He had his wand ready and raised it up, eyes focused on the tip. Harry could make out his jaw moving, either muttering words of reassurance to himself or his teeth were chattering. It was incredibly cold.

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

The light filled the void of the black sky. Harry had to look away to keep from being blinded. When the spots cleared out of his eyes he looked back at Malfoy and saw the light concentrated into a form, almost, and Malfoy stared too, until the light vanished. Malfoy’s face was flushed, in stark contrast the platinum of his hair.

“What was it?”

Harry blinked twice and cleared his throat. “A—a corporeal Patronus. It almost took a form. Could you tell what it looked like?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I did,” Malfoy snapped. It began to snow by the time they reached the gate and apparated in front of the Three Broomsticks. Malfoy refused to step in until he had straightened his tangled hair. Both men were glad for the warmth inside the pub and immediately ordered two hot butterbeers at the bar, which Madam Rosmerta promptly brought them. It wasn’t surprising that the pub was filled with people. Some professors from the school as well as residents from the village sat talking and laughing, waving at him as he had walked past them. Harry spotted Neville and waved back, and Neville went back to talking to Hannah Abbot. _Famous Potter_. He turned back to Malfoy.

“What’s the matter? You look sour. You just conjured a patronus, almost a corporeal patronus! I thought you’d be happier!” Harry said.

“I am happy about it, believe me. I just didn’t expect this.”

“What’s so bad about having a drink with me?” Harry said. Malfoy laughed. It was a genuine laugh, not just a sneer or chuckle.

“Oh, don’t get your pretty head in a tizzy Potter, not all things are about you.”

_Pretty head?_

“I just didn’t expect to ever be able to do this. When I gave up back there in your office, _I really did_ give up. I’ve… I have been trying this for _years_ and I didn’t so much as feel a portion of what I felt today. This was incredible and the second time I did it… I did it just to make sure I didn’t dream doing it. Do you know what that feels like, Potter?”

“I understand that. But it doesn’t answer my question.”

Malfoy took a deep breath and let it out. He looked straight at Harry, grey eyes twinkling in the dark.

“You do know a Death Eater can’t produce a patronus, don’t you?”

“You’re not a Death Eater.”

“I was.”

“No, weren’t. If you were one, you’d never have hesitated that night. When the Snatchers brought Ron, Hermione and me to your Manor, you’d have told Bellatrix. But you didn’t.”

“What difference does that make, Potter?” Malfoy’s right hand went to cover his left wrist. “Scars don’t fade. You ought to know that better than most.”

“It makes all the difference! Draco, you _chose_ to help me. You—

“I wanted it to end. The war. And you were the only one who could do it. With Dumbledore dead… it was always you. The Chosen One.”

Harry sighed and hunched his head over his drink.

“Do you ever dream about it?” Malfoy whispered.

“Every night.” Harry murmured.

*

Malfoy regretted his question as soon as he finished speaking. For a minute he thought he’d made Potter angry, until he answered, and all Malfoy could hear in his voice was remorse. They said he’d come back from the dead, just like the Dark Lord. He found himself thinking he couldn’t imagine what else Potter and his friends had done and been through. After all those years of trying to get attention away from Potter, toward himself. All the teachers doting over him, fawning over the Golden Boy. Stupid jealousy. And for what? His family disappointed when he turned down a post at the Ministry, becoming a healer at St.  Mungo’s, resigning then and becoming Potions Master at Hogwarts—and refusing to get married, no matter how many times his mother tried to broach the subject. And Potter just stared at his drink.

“I’m sorry. It was a stupid question. Out of line. I—

“It’s fine.”

“No, really. It was… obvious. The answer. I—

_“It’s fine, Draco.”_

Malfoy stared. He was sure if he stared long enough he’d burn a hole through Potter’s head. Potter had never called Draco by his first name. To Malfoy it sounded more hateful than when Potter said his last name. He turned away, picked up his tankard and downed the whole drink. He called over Madam Rosmerta and ordered two tumblers of Firewhiskey.

“Drink it. Forget the butterbeer.” Without question, Potter picked up the drink and swallowed it. They both winced as it scorched their throats.

“Come on,” Malfoy said, leaving a gold galleon on the bar. “I want to show you something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The image that inspired the scene at The Three Broomsticks is by upthehill from tumblr, you really should go let her know how amazing her work is and support and encourage her to keep making more of her amazing art
> 
> http://upthehillart.tumblr.com/post/168358152184/a-tribute-to-the-trope-where-post-war-harry-and


	2. 2

Conversation had become easier on the walk back to castle. Malfoy could see by Potter’s easy gait that he was extremely comfortable. Even though they both were nearly the same height, Malfoy had to take faster strides than Potter who seemed to float his way up and past the gate where they’d apparated.

“I can’t believe you convinced those two goofs to Polyjuice themselves into girls for you!” Harry laughed.

“It was easy. I told them if they didn’t, the Dark Lord would kill them.”

“That took a turn quick.”

“It’s called dark humour, Potter.”

_Easy._

“So where are we going, funnyman?”

“You’ve been there once before. Think water and stone.”

Potter slowed his pace, giving Malfoy a chance to catch his breath. The light fall of snow and chill in the air wasn’t helping. Potter’s brow had furrowed as he thought about where Malfoy might be taking him. Malfoy kept his head turned toward him as they walked on toward the castle.

_When did we grow up?_

They had to grow up. You could smell the desperation in those days when both sides wanted competent fighters. All those little sessions during the holidays in his last two years when his father began teaching him deadly curses and his aunt teaching him Occlumency. He remembered being terrified of Bellatrix knowing his thoughts, his memories, his secrets. He knew she’d seen everything: how Potter had first _rejected_ his company, when Potter had made it in the Quidditch team in first year, that bloody Hippogriff and that _bloody_ imposter Transfiguring him. He remembered telling his father about the imposter Mad-Eye turning him into a ferret and how is father had done nothing. Not even a frown. That was the day he realised his father feared certain people.

“Come on, Potter, you used to be an auror, you ought to have figured it out by now.”

“Stone and water? And I’ve been there? Myrtle’s bathroom?”

Malfoy laughed. “No. I imagine you’ve been in there plenty cooking up Polyjuice.” Potter turned to face him incredulously. “Oh, come on, did you think I just poured my heart out to Myrtle all day long? She hears a lot going through the bloody toilets, listening in on everything.”

Potter blushed. Potter _actually blushed_. And Malfoy knew it was of embarrassment. Shame. Fear.

“I know what you’re thinking Potter and if you’re going to get melodramatic about it I think I’ll go back to my office. It’s done and done.”

“You could have died, Draco.”

_He said my name again._

“In that case, I have a question for you, which for all your Gryffindor pride and chivalry, you ought to answer.”

“Of course, anything.”

“How did you know Snape’s spell? Only a few Death Eaters and the Dark Lord knew about _Sectumsempra_. Pretty dark magic for the Golden Boy, don’t you think?”

“It’s a long story. This isn’t the time or place for it.”

“I’ll hold you to it. I have a lot of questions for The Chosen One.”

Potter stopped short and grasped Malfoy’s wrist. “What?”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t call me that. Please. It’s been years, but it never stops anywhere I go. I never asked for any of this, there was never a _choice_. It’s been nothing but a curse. I’ve seen things and there is so much that no one knows or suspects happened or could have happened. Being The Chosen One, The-Boy-Who-Lived… The things I could tell you, Draco, it’s the stuff Skeeter would kill for.” When he finished, Malfoy could hear an owl hoot in the distance.

“I’m sorry, P— _Harry._ ”

“Just… at the end of the day, I’m just Harry.”

 _The orphan._ It was unsaid but you could hear it echo in the night. They were alone, and the snow had started to dot Potter’s hair like frosting. No animal noises, just the occasional _whoosh_ of a gust of wind.

“I’m sorry. Let’s go in. Your head looks like a meringue.”

*

“It looks damp, but it’s warmer than any of the other rooms in the castle. On a good day, you could work up a sweat just sitting in here.”

The last time Harry had been in the Slytherin dungeon, he’d been focused on getting as much information out of Malfoy as possible. It still looked like an underwater shipwreck. The lamps hung on chains, green as ever, illuminating dull and pillowey carved chairs. The mantle stood proud over a roaring fire, giving the room a pale green glow, brighter than what Harry remembered. A few tapestries hung over the walls between the windows of unknown faces, interspaced with carvings and etchings in the stone. Above the huge mantle hung a shield with a serpent with emeralds for eyes embossed on it and right below that, a portrait of Horace Slughorn, snoring away on a plush leather armchair.

“This was the safest place in the entire castle during the war. I heard McGonagall sent anyone below fourth year down here and set some of those animated statues of hers around the entrance to guard it.”

“I’m sure,” Harry whispered. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“No, that’s down here.”

“ _Down?_ How deep is this place?”

“Follow me and find out,” Draco smirked.

“The dormitories?”

“Are behind us, to the left. _What are you doing up? It’s past midnight, you ought to be in bed!_ ’

The boy froze in place. “But it’s Christmas, sir!”

“Go to your dormitory. If I see anyone loitering about, they’ll be scraping flobberworm mucus off desks for the rest of the year.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy said and quickly walked past them.

“Wipe that expression off your face, Potter.”

Harry laughed. “Responsible Draco.”

_Again._

“Shut up and walk. Watch your step, it’s a bit uneven here.”

Harry was sure they’d left the main dungeons after they passed the last window. He doubted this place would be known to the Marauder’s Map. The walked past two suits of armour after which the flat stone turned to a rocky slope. The green glow of the dungeon had started to fade. “ _Lumos!_ ” Malfoy’s head loomed up bright and blond ahead of him and he cast the spell himself. The arched ceiling had disappeared, replaced with the terrain of a cave. The path ahead of them had one turn to he right and Draco began walking toward it.

“Seriously, where are we?”

“ _Mi casa_. Not _su casa_. You’re just a visitor for now.”

Harry smirked. “What, like your sex dungeon?”

“ _You wish._ ” Harry could hear the amusement in Malfoy’s voice, along with something else he couldn’t quite place. They had reached the bend and beyond, the tunnel gave way to a pale green light.

“Are we under the lake?”

“Yes, we are. The tunnel’s been here since Slytherin’s time, but this end had been blocked with a spell. I took McGonagall’s permission to… shall we say, occupy it? Mind you, it did take a year to break down the enchantments and not flood the entire dungeon.”

“So, what’s holding the water back now?”

“Some more spells.” The finally reached the mouth of the tunnel and Harry’s eyes bugged out. They weren’t just under the lake, they were _in the lake_. A domed space, just as large as the common room behind had been cleared and tiled and the water held back with what looked like a massive Bubble-Head Charm. The space itself had been decorated with three, black very comfortable-looking armchairs, each with its own ottoman, a carved wooden table, a writing desk, a liquor cabinet, two high shelves stacked with books and jars (of potion ingredients and not organs or dead animals, Harry was relieved to see) and, oddly, a fireplace, with a happy, warm fire.

“This is beautiful, Draco!”

“This is my office. McGonagall was skeptical about it, but she gave in eventually. Snape’s office was a broom cupboard and Slughorn’s was right in the middle of the castle. Far too much noise for me. This is my abode, my fortress of solitude.”

Harry had to admit it was one of the most beautiful sights he’d seen. He saw a Grindylow swim by, indifferent to the space below it. “What if a creature falls in? The giant squid or the Merpeople?”

“You underestimate me, Potter!” He almost sounded condescending. “There’s a Shield Charm lining the dome and a myriad of concealing spells. Not a necessary precaution, we’re at the bottom of the lake, just shy of the sea back there, but the Headmistress insisted. Have a seat.”

Harry sat down into the chair closest to the fire and tilted his head up to the dome. “This is _amazing._ ”

“Thank you.” Malfoy said as he handed Harry a cup of warm tea. He sat down opposite Harry, slipping off his shoes and wiggling his toes. He crossed his legs and held his own cup just over his knee.

“Why am I here, Draco?”

Draco stared at Harry a little too long, as if he were deciding on an answer. He said, “Consider it a privilege. This is my own little Chamber of Secrets. None of that heir of Slytherin rubbish though, just me and anybody I deem worthy enough to witness it.” He raised his cup to Harry in a mock salute and took a sip.

“Po— _Harry_ ,” Draco said softly. “What you did for me tonight, what you taught me—I could never repay you.”

“It wasn’t a favour, Draco. I’m the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. It’s my job.”

Draco’s smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “What’s it like? Facing a real Dementor?”

Harry let out a heavy breath and said, “Like falling down from a great height with nothing but darkness around you. And you never stop falling. Maybe you do when they kiss you. And it’s not _pain_ so much as reliving every horrible thing you think you had forgotten, or didn’t understand. It feels like you’re drowning and the deeper you fall the more the water pushes you in on yourself making you smaller.”

“And a Patronus can… just make it stop?”

“As sure as I am under this bloody lake.”

Draco laughed again. _He has nice teeth,_ Harry thought. _They’re all even._

“Where do you sleep?” Harry asked. “I don’t see another room or a bed anywhere.”

“It’s not that difficult to conjure one,” Draco drawled. He took out his wand, flicked it lazily and a four-poster bed, just like in Harry’s old dormitories, only this one had green satin sheets and pillows. The posters were carved in the shape of serpent heads with their fangs bared and eyes decorated with silver.

“Fancy,” Harry said.

“I’m not a night owl, but I do make exceptions when required.”

“Where was this side of you back in school days? You’re almost charming!”

Draco smirked, “Well, you did choose to—how did you phrase it _tell the wrong sort of people_. But no matter, I’d be a fool to pretend I wasn’t an absolute git to you and your friends. You weren’t exactly golden either.”

They stared at each other.  Draco uncrossed his legs and spread them, tilting his neck and staring beyond the dome. “The lake’s frozen over on top.”

Harry didn’t say anything. He was fixated. Malfoy still stared up at the dome, but Harry couldn’t look past Malfoy’s undone fly. The zipper hadn’t just popped open, it was undone to the end. It was evident Malfoy hadn’t bothered with underwear.

Malfoy sighed, and Harry blinked and looked away. “I think I should go back to my rooms now.” Harry said. His voice sounded dry.

Malfoy frowned abut quickly recovered and smiled. It almost looked warm. “Of course, it’s late.”

They both stood up and Malfoy walked toward Harry, who was glad both their robes covered their fronts. Draco held his hand out, smirking. “If you ever need _anything_ … I can help you there.” Harry took his hand. He couldn’t help but smile. On second thought it sounded a bit suggestive… Harry realised he’d been holding Draco’s hand a little longer than he should have. They didn’t look away from each other.

“Good night, Draco,” Harry said. He stepped back, slipped his hand out of Draco’s and began to walk away to the tunnel’s entrance.

“Good night, Harry.”

*

Harry was panting by the time he reached his office. He walked in, cast a Locking charm on the door and stripped off, glad to be rid of the restrictions. His member jutted out proud and red. He touched himself lightly, standing at the edge of his bed, feather light strokes, second hand swiping across the planes of his chest, just as light, the hair tickling his fingertips. One finger flicked over a nipple and goose pimples covered his flesh.

Eyes shut, he threw his head back and set his knees on his bed, kneeling, touches firmer, more in control. He could see Malfoy’s seated form behind his eyelids, legs spread, that fly open… the button popped. Robes undone and barely on his shoulders. The shirt underneath hugged Malfoy’s body, a little scrunched. The crotch was bulging. _Almost._ His smirk. Harry could see him, hear Malfoy—said something… _like what you see?_

He stopped, opened his eyes. He fell sideways and hit the bed, buried his face in his pillow with his erection pressed under his body.

“What am I doing…”

 _Harry._ Draco had never called him by his first name before. Instinctively he began to rut against the sheets, rocking his hips as if… What would it be like… his chest against Malfoy’s— _Draco’s_ chest. What would his body be like? Porcelain and smooth. He wanted arms around him, holding him, pulling him lower, deeper.

He threw his head back and propped himself on his arms, waist still rocking against the sheets. He stared at his shadow on the headboard, imagining the blond beneath him, ass as soft as these sheets, grinding up against him, matching him stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust. The shadow grew stronger and he wanted it to become a mirror. He wanted to see Draco beneath him.

“ _Harry…_ ”

“FUCK!” Harry shouted and turned around, hand instinctively covering himself. At the foot of his bed was a patronus, one he’d never seen before. It looked feline, glowing bright and strong, yet Harry’s eyes were wide with awe. It was a magnificent creature, he could tell. _Why isn’t it vanishing?_

The patronus floated toward him, pawing at air, till it was close enough for Harry to touch. And he _wanted_ to touch it.

“ _Harry…_ ”

“Who are you?” Harry whispered.

He could swear the spectre winked at him before it dissolved into shimmering light. Harry blinked the spots out of his eyes.

“Fuck…” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image by @UpTheHill from tumblr. This is one of my favourite images by her - the details of the scars and the expression...
> 
> https://78.media.tumblr.com/85d7c59e877be7cf1cd84c00db3b09e4/tumblr_oeasmtvDWK1vqfid4o2_400.jpg


	3. 3

He reached the dungeons faster this time. He walked past the Potions classrooms, down the corridor to the stone wall, almost shouted the password Draco had used before. The fire had been extinguished and Harry could see one elf tending to the place. He crept by, feet moving swiftly toward the corridor, down the tunnel. He didn’t need to light his wand, didn’t need to slow down as he approached the turn in the tunnel. The dome loomed ahead of him, glowing, soft light refracting and gleaming off it’s walls. He reached the mouth and saw the man standing facing his books.

Harry’s heart was racing and member throbbing from rubbing against fabric as he’d walked his way. The blond could probably hear him panting.

“You—you did it,” Harry huffed. “The patronus.”

Draco turned. He looked shaken, cheeks flushed.

“Just practicing,” he murmured. “Took a few tries.”

“Brilliant… What was it? I couldn’t tell. It caught me by surprise.” Harry heard his voice break as he said the last sentence. “It looked like a big cat.”

“It looked like a leopard to me. Maybe it was a cheetah. I don’t really know the difference between the two. What do you think that says about me?” The flush crept up stronger over Draco’s cheeks. His face was all sharp angles and soft skin in the light from around them—so smooth, it was impossible to tell if he’d ever had any down on his face.

“It was… regal. It was beautiful, Draco.”

Draco’s lips parted, and he sucked in a breath. “Probably would have been a ferret back in school.” Harry smiled. For a moment he felt his trepidation fade. The images from before began to swim in front of his eyes, but Draco’s face stayed clear. He wanted—

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a little problem…”

It took four strides and one tug at the collar of his robes to pull Draco’s lips to his. Harry could taste the tea on his lips, sweet and strong. He slipped his tongue past his lips and Draco met it with his own. He was a brilliant kisser and Harry felt himself melting, moulding to Draco’s body. The chest was just as firm and strong as Harry had imagined. One hand went to cup Draco’s cheek while the other explored his body under the robe, over the black shirt. He could feel Draco’s heart pounding just as hard as his own.

Draco’s hands had cupped both his cheeks, thumbs rubbing the stubble. One hand, Harry wasn’t sure which, went up to tangle in his hair, pulling lightly and Harry moaned. His own hand went from Draco’s chest to his stomach, lower, thumbing the buckle of the belt and… his fly was still undone.

Draco broke the kiss and opened his eyes. “Shit, Harry.”

Harry saw grey eyes and—Draco’s hot breath fogged up his glasses. The blond chuckled, took his hand out of Harry’s hair and slipped of the glasses. Harry wasn’t sure where he put them, didn’t care that Draco’s face up close was the only thing he could see anymore—that mouth, he wanted to taste it again.

“Wait,” Draco whispered. He put both palms flat on Harry’s chest and grey eyes locked to green. “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere. Please.” He stepped around Harry and ran out into the tunnel.

Harry stood where Draco had left him, not quite sure of what to expect. This was more awkward than when Cho had cried while kissing him. He thought he could strip off and lay under the covers of the four poster Draco had conjured earlier. Instead he focused on trying to calm himself. His hands shook, and his heart continued to hammer in his chest.

_Fuck fuck fuck FUCK! I just kissed Draco Malfoy... I kissed Draco fucking Malfoy!_

He heard footsteps and turned away from the entrance. _Pretend the books interest you._ _Be cool, be cool!_ He realised everything was blurred because he didn’t have his glasses on. He looked around and found them lying on the edge of a shelf.

Draco appeared at the mouth of the tunnel, slightly out of breath. A dark lump behind him explained where his robes had gone off to. The grey short he wore underneath hugged his body in all the right places, the top two buttons undone to show pale smooth skin. His eyes sparkled a shade of green, so light it looked like he was about to cry, but the grin on his face—Harry had never seen such an expression on Draco’s face for all the years they’d known each other. It wasn’t smug, it wasn’t condescending. It was _happy_. And it made certain parts of Harry extremely happy. The blond strode up to Harry, lips barely an inch away, still red and parted. Harry felt a pair of hands slide up to his waist, higher—the lips went _tut_ as the hands slide off the glasses yet again. Everything behind Draco’ head was a blur and Harry didn’t mind. He’d waited five minutes too long now.

Harry went in, securing those ruby lips with his own. A hand went up to muss up the perfection Draco had for hair, pulling his face closer to his own. Their tongues met, and they explored each other’s mouth, light flicks, touching teeth and _so warm_. Draco moaned into the kiss as his hands explored Harry’s body, touching and trailing over the fabric, lightly lingering over the nubs of Harry’s nipples straining through the shirt. They went up to the collar, bunching up the fabric.

Draco broke the kiss. The hands at Harry’s collar tensed and pulled outward sending buttons flying across the room. The shirt tore from the force and Draco pushed it past Harry’s shoulders, staring. Cool hands travelled over his chest, almost in worship.

“Fuck, Potter, they really train you aurors don’t they?” Draco hunched over and flicked the tip of his tongue over one nipple while a hand tended to the other. Harry threw his head back; a light shiver ran down his back raising gooseflesh all over his torso. The mouth latched onto his nipple, sucking, teeth grazed lightly over the nub of flesh, while the other one was tweaked lightly, pinched and rubbed. That mouth turned its attention to that nipple and continued with its ministrations just as expertly, while all Harry could do was stand there, holding the blond head close to his chest.

Draco pulled back and sank to his knees and Harry tilted his head down. The fingers deftly undid the button and pulled the zipper down, finally relieving the pressure. The pants were pulled down to Harry’s knees. Draco’s warm breath felt like heaven on his throbbing cock. Draco raised his eyes to Harry’s and grasped him at the base.

“I was wrong Potter. This is definitely not a _little_ problem.”

A smile tugged at Harry’s lips. The hand began to stroke him, gently at first and grew firmer and Harry groaned, his knees buckling from the feel of it. He steadied himself by grasping at Draco’s shoulders and spread his legs apart a little.

“Feel good, Potter? How long has it been?”

“Too fucking long, Draco…”

“Do you like it? Do you want more?”

“Fuck yes, Draco, please!”

“I think I like hearing the golden boy curse.” Draco’s other hand went under to cup Harry’s balls, gently teasing them around, one finger stretching out to stroke the flesh just below from Harry’s butt.

“Tell me how good that feels, Potter.” The strokes were surer as Draco picked up a rhythm with his other hand.

“So fucking good, Draco, so good!” One hand went from Draco’s shoulder to the back of his head. Even through the blur of his vision, Harry saw the red of Draco’s lips curve, the parted lips open wide and engulf him.

“ _Oh fuck, yes!_ ”

He felt that expert tongue stroke him in the wetness, slide against the underside of the shaft, the hand on his balls now cupping his butt, controlling the motion of his hips. The blond head moved in sync, almost pulling Harry out entirely, stopping just at the head before taking him in again. Each time Draco pulled back to suck on the head of his cock, Harry nearly came. He grabbed on to Draco’s hair, bunching it up in fists.

The blond back entirely, one hand returning to stroke the shaft lightly.

“You taste better than Firewhiskey, Potter,” Draco panted. “Put on your glasses. I think you deserve to watch this.”

Harry fumbled and stretched his hand out to the shelf because Draco wouldn’t let go of his cock. He found the glasses and slipped them on. Draco’s lips glistened just an inch away from his wet cock. The hand stroking him returned to cup his butt and he said, “Use me.”

“Wha—

Before Harry finished, Draco’s mouth was upon him, the hands pulling him closer and Harry understood. He put his hands on either side of Draco’s head and followed the motion. He went slow first, enjoying the slick wetness, the little graze of Draco’s teeth sending him over edge, the tongue swirling, licking. Harry picked up speed, watching his length go past those lips, twice hitting the back of Draco’s throat making him gag.

“Ah fuck, Draco!” Harry thought he heard a sound, a little pop, but dismissed it. All he knew, all he cared was for this feeling to never stop.

Draco made a sound, pulled back away from Harry’s grasp and coughed. His eyes were glistening a little like he was about to cry. “ _Fuck!”_ he said as he caught his breath, hand back to stroking Harry.

Harry noticed Draco has his own cock out, proud and hard with blond curls at the base. Draco began to move back toward Harry’s waist, but Harry stepped back and bent down. He could taste salt on Draco’s lips. The blond stood up, shucking his pants down. Both men broke the kiss. Harry pulled the shirt off his shoulders and stepped out of his shoes. Draco had to steady himself by grabbing Harry’s arm when he wobbled trying to get out of his pants. Both men chuckled, stealing another kiss. Draco began to lead Harry toward the bed behind him, one step at a time, each punctuated with a swipe of tongues, or a moan, until Draco pushed Harry down on the bed.

It was a glorious view, watching Draco stare down at him, his member right in front of him.

“You look fucking beautiful, Potter.”

Harry locked eyes with Draco and took him in his mouth. Draco’s moan sent shivers through Harry; he tasted sweet and salty and Harry grabbed Draco’s buttocks to take as much of him as he could. He swirled his tongue about, licking the head, feeling the bump of his veins, swiping along the underside, just the way Draco had.

“Fuck, yeah baby, that feels great!”

Harry pulled back a little, catching his breath. His hand came up front to stroke Draco before he took him back into his mouth.

“Ahh, fuck!” Draco moaned.

Harry began to stroke himself, some of Draco’s spit still wet on him. Each bob of his head was in sync with his arm. It came naturally, even when he stretched his mouth open, trying to take more of Draco. He felt the cock hit the back of his throat and he retched. Tears came to his eyes and he drew back before going in again. He could see a blurred Draco close his eyes and lean forward when his cock touched the back of Harry’s throat again. At some point Harry found he could go on without retching if he pretended he was swallowing just when Draco’s cock hit the back of his throat.

“Fuck, you’re so good, Potter, so good!”

Harry let go of his cock, drew back and began pumping Draco with his hand. He stood up, got on the bed, kneeling, facing the blond, hand still pumping. He noticed Draco bit his lower lip every few seconds. He liked the thought of edging Draco as much as he could.

Harry went in to kiss Draco’s swollen lips, biting the plump flesh for him. He felt Draco’s hands on his waist, pulling him closer. He still hadn’t taken his shirt off.

Harry pulled back and started to undo the buttons, but Draco’s hands reached up.

“What’s the matter? Don’t want to get this great shirt all dirty, do you?”

“That’s… I —Draco didn’t finish.

Harry frowned. The memory came crashing back, the horror… Myrtle’s screams.

“I don’t want to… what do the Muggleborns call it—trigger… anything.”

“You fucking arse.”

Harry grabbed a bunch of the fabric, latched his mouth on to Draco’s and ripped the shirt just as Draco had done his. He went down, kissing the smooth neck, the collarbone, till he reached the scar. He ran his tongue lightly over the top of wound, then kissed it. “I nearly killed you.”

“We both tried to hurt each other. We’re square, Potter.”

Harry came back up, staring into Draco’s eyes.

“You baffle me, Draco. You really do.”

“I also don’t let perfectly healthy erections go to waste.” He pushed Harry on his back. Draco had climbed on top, straddling, ogling, then licking and then kissing every inch of his skin, always heading down.

“I think it’s time I had you inside me now,” Draco whispered, kissing the tip of Harry’s cock. Harry felt his face grow red.

“What’s the matter, Potter? We’ve been talking dirty for a while now. Does it remind you of _other_ people you were _inside_ of?”

“No!”

“I assure you, I’m far better than any you’ve been with.” He was so coy. Harry wondered if this was the voice hidden behind the sullen drawl he’d heard for most their childhood, or if it was for the moment. He didn’t get much time to dwell on the thought.

The blond was on his hands and knees, head resting on one arm, eyes locked with Harry’s. For want of a better view, Harry propped himself up on one elbow, the other hand going down to stroke himself. Draco’s free hand was splayed across his buttocks with the thumb rubbing over his taint, light strokes, then pressing, never entering. “What are you waiting for?” he whispered.

Harry pushed himself to his knees and knelt, watching the thumb glide over and over. Draco had no hair at all on his buttocks or surrounding his entrance. Harry couldn’t tell if Draco was just that good at shaving his nether or maybe he just didn’t have any growth there. Just smooth flesh.

_Mine._

He pulled aside Draco’s hand, which went to stroking its owner. Harry placed a wet kiss on one cheek and took a deep breath in. He could almost see an imprint of his palm from before.

“I’m clean, Potter. Why do you think I told you to wait before?”

Harry dove in, tongue first. Both men moaned—Harry’s muffled and Draco’s emphatic enough to make Harry’s cock twitch. Harry gave it his all, lapping up, licking, flicking his tongue, then pushing it past the ring. Each time he went through, Draco moaned. A few times he pulled back, close enough for his eyes to see the slick entrance twitch, enticing him, begging him, just like Draco’s moans, for more. He blew light puffs of air at it, all the while watching; it was the most fantastic sight he’d ever witnessed.

“You taste so good, Draco, I could do this all day.” He pulled off his glasses, threw them aside and resumed his ministrations.

“All in good time, baby. Come on now, get me ready.”

Harry spat on Draco’s entrance, sliding his forefinger in the ridge, watching the glob slide down to the tender patch of flesh and weave through the fair dusting of hair on Draco’s balls. Slowly, he pushed, watching, feeling the muscle resist, then slowly give, before clenching on his knuckle. He began to move his finger back and forth while his thumb rubbed what remained of his spit on that patch of flesh. Both fingers then made a pinching gesture: thumb pushing against the skin and forefinger pressing against his inside.

“Oh fuck, what are you doing? Merlin, it feels so fucking good!”

Harry pulled his finger out, rather suddenly, but before Draco could turn his head, to probably frown and spit a remark, Harry pulled him back by his head, pressing their bodies together. He felt it again, that creature which sometimes reared its head in his chest, clawing and roaring.

“Say my name,” he muttered in Draco’s ear.

“Potter, what the fuck—

“ _My name._ No one else.”

“Fuck, you’re so dramatic, I—

Harry’s slapped his hand on Draco’s ass, hard.

The blond yelped. He turned his head to the side, breathing heavily. “So that’s how you want to play, _Potter_.”

_Smack!_

Harry pulled Draco’s head back enough, so he stared right up at the dome. Pitch black beyond what little light from the room crept past. His erection felt right at home, nestled between Draco’s soft cheeks. It took all his will to not push right into him and have his release. Harry nipped at the smooth slope where Draco’s neck met his shoulder. A little higher, just where a vein throbbed green against pale skin. Harry bit and sucked at the spot, making Draco moan. One hand held Harry’s head down firmly. It was high enough to not be covered by a collar. When he finished, he pulled back and stared at the spot, red and bruising.

 _Mine_.

He pushed the blonde down again, by the head; Draco never had the chance to stop his fall and his head hit the bed hard, neck turned to one side. Harry could feel the blond’s anticipation—he returned his ministrations back to the puckered entrance. Harry spat at it, rubbing his fingers against it, slapping the hole lightly at which Draco jumped.

“Stay down.”

Harry pushed two fingers through, watching the knuckles disappear, then till the hilt. He wiggled them, feeling the walls close on him and then let go again. A third crept in and Draco’s moans turned to little shouts. Harry angled his fingers, first up, then down; he wasn’t sure where exactly he should be headed—it was much more different that doing it to yourself. His fingers went just above the spot where his perineum would be and rubbed lightly. A moan again, a little louder than before. He went a little further, knuckles almost past the sphincter. Draco threw his head back, satin sheets bunched in his hands. A wet spot stained the sheets where Draco’s cock. He pulled out his fingers and started to lick the orifice again, sliding his tongue in.

“Please… I can’t… I want…”

“Get me wet,” Harry said. Draco turned around and took Harry in his mouth. He didn’t let his lips touch Harry’s cock, just bobbed his head, taking Harry as deep as he could. Harry leaned back with his hands propping him up, so he could look into Draco’s eyes. When Draco went down and Harry felt himself slide down into Draco’s throat, that creature welled up within Harry again, watching Draco want him so much.

Draco pulled back and turned around. He bent low, head turned to look at Harry who placed his hands at Draco’s hips, the tip of his cock prodding the wet ass.

“Come on, Professor, my patience is wearing thin.”

Harry pushed; the tip slid in and Harry paused, just as much to control himself as for Draco to accommodate him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Draco hissed. “Ahh, keep going.” Draco pushed himself backward, slowly, stroking himself while Harry went ahead. It didn’t take long for the rhythm to kick in, both men throwing their heads back.

“Fuck you feel so good inside me, Harry!”

Harry let go of Draco’s hips and bent over so Draco was lying flat on the bed and Harry propped on his arms. The rhythm changed, Harry plunging in, slow at first, before picking up speed.

“Uh, so tight!”

Draco turned his face to a side, hand reaching back to pull Harry’s face to his. Harry leaned down lower, kissing soft lips, nuzzling an earlobe, licking the tender flesh beneath it, biting a smooth slope of neck. In one stroke, Harry slid in, deep enough to be joined at the hip, pulling a fistful of hair, another little nip at the neck. They stayed that way, Draco pushing his face down and hips up to touch himself, groaning when he does, while Harry buried his face in the dip of Draco’s neck. He pulled back and pushed back in, slow and firm, once, twice, three times. Draco yelped each time and reached out behind to grab Harry’s ass on the third stroke.

“Wait… wait…”

Harry was just shy of pulling out. The last thing he wanted was this to be painful for Draco. He couldn’t see Draco’s face, couldn’t tell if he was hurting or controlling.

“Turn around,” Harry muttered. “I want to watch you.” He pulled out, the stretch of Draco’s sphincter clinging on him like a vice, and turned Draco around. In the second before Draco turned and laid back down, he could tell the sheets were damp. Draco’s cock was red—he wouldn’t let go of it, stroking lightly. Harry got in position once more, holding Draco’s legs on either side of him, poking the entrance, inching forward with a little shuffle of his knees.

Draco felt tighter this way, cheeks spread apart, the sphincter clenching once again as if trying to keep him out and pull him in at the same time. When he did get in he pushed Draco’s legs further back and up on to his shoulders, grabbing soft thighs—the down on them was softer than Draco’s lips. When he began to push and pull back, twice he slipped out completely, so Draco reached out and pulled a pillow, tucking it under his ass. When Harry began pumping again, each time he drew back he nearly pulled out, just the tip nestled inside Draco before driving back in. He didn’t want the feeling to stop, never wanted to leave the wetness and warmth of Draco’s ass. His motions turned frenetic, each pump accentuated with his thighs slapping against Draco’s ass. Draco tried to match Harry’s strokes with his hand pumping his own cock. Harry could tell he wanted to come already. Twice he moaned Draco’s name and both times Draco bit his lip. He’d tucked his free hand under his head. Harry evened out his rhythm, just enough to be able to bend over. He slipped Draco’s legs off his shoulders, holding them in the crooks of his elbows. Clearly Draco didn’t mind being bent double: he even reached up with the hand under his head, pulling Harry closer; he even let go of his cock to prop himself up. Harry slid his knees under Draco and lifted him up by his waist. When their lips met, wet and sloppy, Harry lifted Draco completely and stretched out his legs from under, all the while staying buried inside. Draco tried to pull back from the kiss, maybe to catch his breath but Harry wouldn’t let go; when he finally adjusted himself, sitting up with Draco impaled on him, they both groaned into the kiss, never breaking it. Draco raked his nails on Harry’s back while his legs wrapped around Harry, flexing them one time, the muscle clutching Harry tightening, almost painfully and Harry let go.

They panted, sweat-coated bodies flush against each other. Draco’s hands went up to cup Harry’s face, which was nuzzled in his neck, kissing the little dip between his collarbones, licking the sheen of sweat. His stubble on Harry’s chin scratched against Draco’s chest, just above that scar.

He pulled back and propped his hands behind him. Draco tucked his legs around Harry’s waist and rested his hands on Harry’s shoulders. His body went up and then back down, walls clenching beautifully. The sight was pure erotica for Harry, the way Draco seemed entirely lost in a daze, head thrown back with hair matted on his forehead. When Draco twisted his hips, then rotated them, Harry thrusted up, trying to give as good as he was given, and he could tell he hit the spot.

Draco’s head snapped forward. His eyes were wide open, and lips parted. Harry felt hands tighten on his shoulders—one hand went down, hurriedly stroking its owner and Harry slapped it away.

“Oh, please, just let me,” Draco whimpered trying to touch himself again, but Harry pushed his weight off his hands and grabbed Draco’s wrists securing them behind his back. He began to pump into Draco and the blond pushed right back; Harry could feel the heat of Draco’s erection pressed between their bodies. Harry bit down just below the collarbone, kissing and sucking the flesh.

Harry fell back, letting go of Draco’s arms. The blonde supported himself with his hands on Harry’s chest, moving his hips, trying to get to that spot again.

Draco looked heavenly. Harry loved the two bruises he’d left on pale skin, the flush surrounding them, the little shadow of a stubble on Draco’s jaw… and the rust-coloured scar with its faded corners. His doing, perhaps a shade of vulnerability had crept into Draco since then.

Harry touched Draco’s cock, sliding his thumb along the underside, coaxing him and Draco speeding up. He touched the little drop on the tip, drawing back watching it cling like a thread of silk—when it broke he licked his finger. Draco moaned at the sight.

“Touch me, please, touch me,” he moaned.

Harry wrapped his hand around Draco’s cock, squeezing lightly and then stroking. The organ throbbed in his fist.

“Let me come, Harry, please, please,” Draco whimpered.

Harry sat back up, pushing Draco down on to his back. Quick shuffle of limbs, knees digging deep into the mattress, holding straining hands above Draco’s head, Harry thrusted in rapid, deep strokes.

“Oh, fuck me, Potter, yes!”

And Harry fucked while Draco rutted under him, trying to get any sort of contact with his cock against Harry’s body, some friction. He felt Draco’s nails dig into his palm, watched as he thrashed his head from side to side, rising to kiss Harry. Harry let go of Draco’s hands, supporting himself on the bed, and those arms went around him, hugging his body.

“I’m close, Draco,” Harry panted.

“Me too.”

Harry pulled out, almost sorry for it and stroked himself. Draco mirrored him underneath, groaning into the kiss, biting a lip. Harry felt a wet spurt hit his chest, two, three and Draco broke the kiss, falling back on the bed, sweaty spent and still stroking himself; a few dribbles ran down the shaft. Harry crawled forward straddling Draco’s chest. The blonde licked at the tip of his cock, reached up to pinch a nipple, the other hand going around him to stroke his taint.

“Come for me, Harry,” he whispered. Harry knew he was loud when he came, knew the finger inside him had sent him over the edge. He thought he heard a chuckle but couldn’t be sure. He didn’t stop stroking himself even after he was finished, bucking as he turned sensitive. When he finally let go, Draco’s mouth wrapped around him. He gasped. When he finally opened his eyes, Draco had let go of his cock and was grinning up at him. The finger had left his ass and both hands rested on his thighs. Harry slicked his hand up in Draco’s mess on his chest, bring the fingers to his mouth and licked. It tasted salty and coated his tongue. When he slipped down, laying his body on top of Draco’s he saw the mess he’d made on Draco’s face. There was some in his hair and a drop running down his chin. He didn’t seem to mind.

“ _The Boy who Came._ And, Merlin, did he ever cum!”

“How original,” Harry chuckled. They kissed, broke off when Harry decided to lick his cream off Draco’s face, whatever he could and then kiss him again.

When Harry pulled back to catch his breath, he tucked his head in the crook of Draco’s neck. A hand was stroking his hair and the chest under him heaved. They rolled about a few times, getting comfortable with their legs tangled in loose sheets. When Draco managed to pin Harry under him, Harry only pulled him closer, kissing and licking cheeks and jaw and bruised lips.

“Next time, I want you inside me,” Harry whispered against Draco’s lips.

The blonde grinned. “Now I know what I’m getting you for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! @MikaDurarara I can't believe I've finished this! It took a month, but I did it!  
> PS.: THIS IS NOT A DRILL. THERE WILL BE A PART TWO. I WILL BE BACK TO MAKE THESE TWO GOOFS FUCK EACH OTHER'S BRAINS OUT AGAIN.  
> PPS.: Another one of my favourite pictures from @UpTheHill!  
> http://upthehillart.tumblr.com/post/164097767671/when-draco-never-shuts-up-malfoy-falls
> 
> PPPS.: I might do other pairings at some point too! Hmu in the comments with your ideas and scenarios. Currently working on a Pansmione fic which will be up sometime in January, 2018. Have a very Drarry Christmas, y'all!


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